Chapter 138

  Through the thick scent of pine and damp earth, I slipped through the woods beyond the Ironclaw castle. My servant's smock bore heavy droplets of dew. The black mask clung tightly to my face and felt like a blister to the sweat glistening on my brow. I moved in silence like a shadow amongst shadows, my heart calmed despite the precariousness of the moment I had had: handing Lusia that vial, a seed of both doubt and desire sown in her fragile mind. I did not need to look back; the castle stood tall behind me, its towers jagged against the light of the moon, its lowly matter of pathos obscured by precarious shadows—ahead of me lay the crumbling hunter's shack nestled in vines, where no one would think to look. He was there already—Thomas, the newest snake in Dane's den, although he referred to himself as Dwayne Thomas, a name as sharp as his ambition. I spied him, he was hunched over in a silhouette through the broken window, broad shoulders blending away in the darkness of his cloak.